


Happy Hawaii

by spikesgirl58



Series: ABBA/Foothills [99]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 07:36:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13542744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikesgirl58/pseuds/spikesgirl58
Summary: It's vacation time for Napoleon and Illya.  Where better to hide from the cold of Jackson than in balmy Hawaii?





	Happy Hawaii

Napoleon stepped out onto the top stair of the airplane staircase and sighed. The heat of the tropical sun was tempered by the breeze both soft and warm against his face. Back home it was the dead of winter. Granted that wasn’t as horrible as the winters back East, but even the Foothills were dark and dreary at this time of the year.

He’d done some research beforehand and as they were approaching Oahu, he’d excused himself and disappeared into the toilet with his carry-on. Napoleon had left California wearing slacks and a sweater over a turtleneck. He emerged from the restroom a few moments later wearing light poplin pants and a tropical shirt.

“Do you know how many rainbows had to die to make that shirt?” Illya asked as Napoleon reseated himself.

“Laugh now, but I have no desire to roast upon landing.” Napoleon fastened his seat belt and finished the last swallow of his Mai Tai. The happy little brown pudgy figurine, a _Menehune_ , according to the flight attendant, was safely stowed away in his carry-on. He wasn’t taking any chances with it. He knew Matt would adore it. “It wouldn’t do you any harm to go native, you know.”

Illya smirked and pulled off his own turtleneck. He was wearing a tee shirt underneath it. _Don’t bother me. I’m on vacation_ was emblazoned across it. “This is as native as I’m likely to get.”

“Ladies and Gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. We are just flying by Oahu. For those on the right side of the plane, if you look out, you will be able to see Pearl Harbor.”

Napoleon leaned over Illya, who pushed himself back farther in the seat to give his partner more room. “See anything?”

“I do. Look.” Napoleon pointed as the plane’s shadow cut across a dark shape in the water. “What a tragedy that was.”

“More like a wake-up call. If the Japanese hadn’t force the US’s hand, Hitler would probably have won.”

They debated that topic as they flew over Maui and up the coast to Kona, then Napoleon pointed.

“Illya, look how blue the water is.”

“Guess that’s where they got blue Hawaii from.” Illya put away his book.

“And the black?”

“Old lava flows. The darker the color, the younger the flows. Before you start worrying, the flow you are looking at is from around 1801. If you really look, that mountain up ahead is the Hualalai Volcano and it’s responsible for one of Hawaii’s biggest exports.”

“Hawaiians?”

Illya laughed as he brought his seat back up. “Kona coffee. In fact, the Kona airport is built on one of its largest lava flows.”

“So, it’s safe to say the island is all about volcanos.”

“The island is all volcano.”

Napoleon had thought that would be ugly to look at, but now, he knew he was wrong. The varying colors of the ancient flows swept down from the mountain to the sea, bringing along with it a renewal of life. As he climbed down the stairs, he could barely take his eyes off the brown, black and green of the landscape.

An employee at the bottom of the stairs gestured to the entrance to what passed as the terminal building and Napoleon headed that way. Even with the lighter clothes and the breeze, sweat started to trickle down his temple. Some shade and air conditioning would be good.

He walked through the gate and grinned. There was no terminal, per se. Everything was open aired. He spotted a shop and touched Illya’s elbow. “I’m going to use the facilities.”

“Again? I warned you not to drink so much on the plane.”

“I’ll meet you in baggage claim.”

“Got it.” Illya picked up Napoleon’s carry-on and headed off. He was off to find his own shade.

Napoleon waited until the blond’s back was turned and there were people between him and Illya, then slipped into the shop. By contrast, the air was icy cold and Napoleon shivered as he looked around. There was a treasure trove of souvenirs. He wisely ignored those for some cold water and two leis.

He got out of the shop just as it was starting to get busy. He slipped his lei on, relishing the spicy fragrance of the plumerias and went to find Illya.

His partner was sitting on a bench with the carry-ons at his feet. Napoleon slipped up beside him and placed a lei around his neck. “ _Aloha, moi wahine_.”

Illya startled, but he wasn’t sure if it was from the sudden cold sensation around his neck or from the sentiment.

“Your queen?”

“Well, you know what I mean.”

“Not the wife,” Illya said as he started to take off the lei. Napoleon’s hand stopped his.

“It was a joke, Illya. You need to relax a little. Far be it from me to cast aspersions upon your manhood.” He looked around and added softly. “I will have need of that later.”

One corner of Illya’s mouth crept up. “Is that all I am to you?”

“Got it in one.” Napoleon cleared his throat and his mind, lest his thoughts make it to his crotch. “Suitcases or car?”

“Car.”

Napoleon handed him their reservation form. “Pick out something suitable.”

****

Napoleon unlocked the door to their bungalow and pushed open the door. “I’m not sure a convertible was the best choice.”

“You’re just grumpy because you over packed and had to ride with the carry-on bags on your lap.”   The lack of trunk space had come as a bit of a surprise to him as well, but Illya would never admit to it. He stepped past Napoleon and walked down the short hall to the main part of the room. “Nice. I’ll need a map to find you in that bed, though.”

“Or the bathroom. There’s enough room for three people in that bathtub.” He put the carry-on bags in the closet and slapped his hands together. “So what would you like to do first?”

He barely had the last word out before Illya had him pinned to the wall and in a hard kiss. Illya’s tongue probed deep into Napoleon’s mouth, exploring every bit of it as if it was undiscovered country. He reached behind Napoleon and cupped his buttocks, nearly bruising them as he pushed them forward.

He wanted to run with his emotions and have Illya taken him there and now. Without intention, his penis responded to the call to arms and he pushed Illya away reluctantly.

“We can’t.”

“Why not?” Illya came back in, this kiss even more demanding than the last.

There was a knock on the door. “Luggage!”

Illya dropped his hands and sighed. “No breaks.”

“Do you think you could…?” The front of Napoleon’s trousers had tented beautifully.. Illya’s erection wasn’t as obvious in his jeans.

“Of course.” He answered the door as Napoleon ducked into the bathroom.

Illya nodded as the bellman rattled on about the luau, the pool hours and whatnot. He gave the man a generous tip and escorted him out. Napoleon had closed the bathroom door and Illya decided to give him some privacy.

He walked out onto their lanai and looked out at the ocean. At this time of the day, the sun hit it and made it glisten silver. The sun felt good on his face and he resisted the urge to strip off and offer himself up. The guide books had been very clear about the dangers of the tropical sun and he remembered more than one sunburn from his UNCLE days.

Illya headed back in, pausing to lock the patio door and draw the curtain. At the sound of a running bath, he headed for the bathroom. He reached up to knock and then thought better of it. He hurried to put out the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign and then flipped the security lock. He had no intention of being interrupted this time.

He slid open the door and grinning at the sight. Napoleon was in the tub, with just the tip of his penis poking out from beneath the water’s surface.

“Mr. Solo, I believe your periscope is up.”

“You spent time on submarines; you know how to take it down.”

Illya hurried stripped off and shivered in the coolness of the air conditioned room. He kicked the clothes aside and carefully stepped up to the tub. Before climbing in, he leaned over to the edge to tongue Napoleon’s penis. He reached in and grasped the shaft, squeezing and pumping until a drop of pre-seminal fluid appeared. He licked it off and repeated the motion. Napoleon tipped his head back and enjoyed the sensations.

Illya stepped into the tub and knelt to lift Napoleon’s legs up until they draped over the edge of the tub. He let a bit of water out until he again had access to Napoleon’s genitals.

“It’s not as big as it looked.” Illya grumbled as he stretched out beside Napoleon. The water eked dangerously close to the lip to the tub. “I was hoping for something more substantial.”

“Excuse me?” Napoleon’s head came up and he looked offended.

“The tub.”

Napoleon’s fingers found Illya’s nipples and he squeezed with just the right amount of pressure. “Then let’s make the first course last, shall we?” Illya leaned in, his eyes closed

“What’s wrong?”

“Lube?”

Napoleon produced a tube and Illya squeezed a generous dollop onto the tip of Napoleon’s penis.

“Are you sure?”

“You won’t hurt me.”

“I’m thinking more about the motion of the ocean, if you know what I mean.”

“Then I won’t move. Ready?”

Napoleon grinned, then sighed as Illya lowered himself into place.   “Oh, now that is worth the trip alone.”

Ilya guided Napoleon’s hand to his genitals. “Less talk, more engagement.”

And so he engaged in the best way possible, making his strokes slow and gentle, then applying more pressure and speed until Illya caught his hand.

“I thought we were making this last.”

“I’m not sure how much longer I can.”

“I excite you that much?”

“No, the slope of this tub is that uncomfortable.”

With a sigh, Illya got his feet under him and groaned his way to a kneeling position. Napoleon’s penis popped free and Napoleon could swear he heard it whimper. Using the sides of the tub, Illya got up, wincing.

“You okay?”

“Legs went to sleep.” He carefully climbed out and hobbled a few steps. “Ouch.”

“Come on, old man. I’ll give you something to help you forget about the pain.”

 

*****

 

Illya adjusted his position again and Napoleon hid his smile. Following their bathroom _apéritif,_

they had retired to the bed where Illya had demanded more, insisted Napoleon thrust harder and now he was paying the price.

 “You okay? Do you need another cushion?” Napoleon’s chuckle slipped out. “Told you.”

Illya glared and returned his attention to the menu. “Your time is coming.”

“I will count the minutes. You want to start with an appetizer?”

“How about the, spare me from saying this, the platter?”

“You mean, _pupu_?” Napoleon chuckled again.

“And a double vodka, neat.” Illya motioned to the waiter who was standing nearby.

“You got it.” Napoleon ordered and then stretched his legs out, watching as the sun crept closer to the horizon. He had chosen a table on the patio, open to the elements with a magnificent view of the ocean. Palm trees lined the walkway and hedges proved diners with privacy from the hotel guests. “This is nice. A man could get used to this.” He smiled shyly, “Providing the right person was there for the ride.”

“You want us to move to Hawaii?” Illya sat up a little straighter. Obviously concerned. “Is that why you suggested this?

“Nope, just want to be with you.”

At that Illya smiled, his first in the last few hours. “My feelings exactly. Home is where you are.”

Their drinks arrived and they sipped as the sun started to sink. “We’re supposed to watch for the green flash.”

“I think that’s only the case if you’ve had one more Mai Tai than you should have.”  

The appetizer platter arrived and the waiter took their dinner order, seared ahi for Illya and fried Kona lobster for Napoleon with and order of Forbidden risotto to share.  “You want a salad, too?”

“Naturally.”

The waiter cocked his eyebrow at the order. “This is a lot of food.”

“You haven’t see him warmed up,” Napoleon said. “Rest assured he will be having dessert.  Why don’t you also bring the “bread” fruit panzanella salad and a cup of the sweet corn bisque and we can share.”  Then he turned his attention to the wine list. “You feel like red or white?”

 “Your choice.” Illya sipped his drink and watched as a young man wearing nothing but a loincloth raced by, lighting the tiki torches that lined the path. “What I wouldn’t give for that kind of energy.”

“You want to be twenty again?” Napoleon closed the wine list after giving his selection. The waiter hurried away, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Not for all the money in the world, but I would still like to have energy to toss around like that.” Illya attacked the platter, heading first for the ribs.

“You have more than a man half your age. We are just more selective about where we spend it. Like this afternoon for example…” Napoleon gingerly picked up a shrimp and dipped it in its sauce.

“And paying for it now. I can barely keep my eyes open.” Illya cleaned off the rib and wiped his hands off. Picking up a wonton chip, he spooned ahi poke onto it.

“Think about it. You worked last night until midnight, came home and packed. Then you got up at seven and we drove to the airport. As far as I can tell, you didn’t sleep on the plane—“

“I did a little.” That was a big admission for Illya.

“Also by my reckoning, it’s about ten back home. You are tired because you’ve had a long day.” Napoleon took a bite of his shrimp and chewed, eyes closed. “These are really good.”

“If only I could serve food like this back home, but I don’t think I could get anyone to try poke. Not in Jackson, at any rate. Maybe in the City.”

“This trip is all about rejuvenating, Illya. It’s for us, for you, to rest, relax and just let the time go by in a way you never would back home.” Napoleon reached out, put his hand on Illya’s forearm and squeezed. Sadly that was as much as he could get away with in public.

“I know.” Illya finished his portion of the platter and grinned as the waiter approached with a tray. On it were two washcloths wet with lemon-scented water.     “This is a very nice touch.”

“We know how messy our ribs can be and Chef was getting annoyed when we hosed people off out back.”

Illya laughed at that. “Are you local?”

“Well, originally from Seattle. Came for a vacation and never left.”

“Told you.”

“Was it a good choice?” Napoleon carefully wiped his fingers and mouth.

The waiter looked out at the ocean. “I won’t lie. The cost of living is crippling. Most of us have to work two jobs just to make ends meet, but it’s worth it. I love being here, although we do get hassled.”

“By?”

“The island born, the real Hawaiians, although most of them have next to no Hawaiian blood anymore. They love visitors, not so much the re-locators. They are happy to take your money, not so much their jobs, benefits, and housing.”   He suddenly looked around guiltily. “Whoops, gotta go.”

“And that is why I don’t want to live here.” Napoleon said as the waiter cleared their dirty dishes and hurried off.

“Like you need to work at all.”

“Face it, Illya, we come from a generation of workers. I’ve worked since I was barely able to stand. It’s what we do.”

“It’s a very different world now.” Illya watched a family with three children walk by and smiled sadly. “I feel very old at times.”

“True and our previous line of work sort of did a number on us, both physically and mentally.” This time Napoleon took Illya’s hand and looked directly into his eyes.   “And I still wouldn’t change a minute of it.”

“Not even…?

“No, because it made us the people we are now.” He let Illya’s hand go as he sensed the man was uncomfortable with the public display. “We needed to go through that, through Velon, your accident, and through a dozen other crises to be the people sitting here.” Napoleon finished his drink. “It wasn’t always pleasant, but it was worth it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Wasn’t this afternoon a demonstration of that?”

Illya lowered his gaze to the table and smiled again. “It was and for the record, I agree.” He looks at his right hand. “Even if I don’t have any fingerprints on this anymore.”

“There are worse fates. I could be sitting here alone.”

“Would you be sitting here at all?”

“You know, I don’t think so. I don’t know what I’d be doing, but I know I wouldn’t be this happy or content. I don’t know what it is about you, Kuryakin, but I’m a fan.” Napoleon looked over as the sommelier approached.

“What did you order?”

“Something nice.”

“Obviously.”

“You ordered the __Châteauneuf__ ** _-_** _ _du__ ** _-_** _ _Pape Mont Redon__ _,_ sir?”

“I did.” He watched as the man opened the wine and offered him the cork. Napoleon gave it a cursory sniff and set it aside. A taste was poured in his glass and Napoleon went through the steps of swirling, sipping and swishing. Illya watched with a smirk on his face.

“Very good.”

“I have heard excellent comments, sir.”

“You haven’t tried it?”

“No, sir, it’s not ordered very often.”

“Then by all means.” Napoleon offered him Illya’s glass.

“Oh, I couldn’t.” The sommelier looked about, as if afraid of being watched.

“Nonsense. I am the guest and I insist you taste it. If anyone complains, tell them that and send them to me.”

The man grinned. “Well, since you put it that way.” He poured the tiniest of amounts.

“More than that.” Napoleon picked up the bottle and added another splash. “You need to be able to appreciate its complexities. You are going to enjoy the mild oakiness and a slight smoky flavor that should go well with fish and game.”

“Are you a wine expert, sir?” He followed the same protocol as Napoleon. “It’s very good.”

Napoleon smiled. “You might say that. I run a tasting room and wine store in the Sonoma area of California.”

“Oh, whereabouts?”

“Jackson.”

The sommelier held out his hand. “I am Grant Burns, Plymouth.”

“Napoleon Solo, Illya Kuryakin. He indicated Illya with a nod.

“You’re the chef from Taste. My chef would love to talk with you… if you don’t mind.”

Illya shook his head. “No, it will be a pleasure, but after the meal.”

“Of course.”   He filled their wine glasses and settled the bottle into a wine bucket. “Enjoy and thank you.”

“I love that about you,” Illya said as the man left. “You always make people feel good when they leave, as if they are better for having known you.”

“One tries.” Napoleon held up his glass. “For fifty years, partner mine, we have made each other crazy. We’ve seen the best and the worst of each other and I wouldn’t trade it for the world.”

“Same here.” Illya sipped and nodded. “He’s right. It is good.” He sat back as their soup and salad arrived. “So what do you want to do tomorrow?”

“Everything or nothing. We can go into Kona and poke around. We can lay out by the pool. We can hang the ‘do not disturb’ sign on the door. It’s your call entirely.”

Illya smiled, set down his glass and reached out to take Napoleon’s hand. “As long as I’m with you, it’s all good.”

 

 

 

 

  


 

  


  



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